


Tête-à-tête

by bloodofthepen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:26:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2153928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodofthepen/pseuds/bloodofthepen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle finds a book of magic in the Dark Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tête-à-tête

**Author's Note:**

> My Round 1 qualifying/winning entry in the 2014 Rumbelle Showdown, published under the name ‘Seren Meade’. 
> 
> Bracket Prompt: Epic failure, it’s a game, things fall apart

Belle settled before the fire, tome tucked securely on her lap, shadows dancing over the arcane symbols on the cover. Each golden loop and curl seemed to writhe and dance in the firelight.

            She knew so little of magic, only the legends and the price. Living with the Dark One—with  _Rumpelstiltskin_ —nearly a year, she had no better understanding of the subtleties of magic than when she began. This book, though… her fingers traced the cover and slipped between the pages to—

            She grasped nothing in her palms but fine, violet smoke curling over her skin.

            “There’s a reason this book is not among your charges in the library.”

            Belle turned to face Rumpelstiltskin, perched on the edge of the table, the tome in question tucked under and arm draped in midnight silk; it rested on his lap, pressed close to his chest. “I did wonder why it was on your chair rather than safely on a shelf where I could care for it.”

            The imp shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. He leapt from the table. “I was reading it.” He paced toward her, but not directly, boots tracing a roundabout pattern on the flagstones, then the carpet. “I should have realized it would attract your curiosity.” The last word trilled over his tongue, bringing a smile to Belle’s lips, an intrigued tilt to her head, a realization:

            He was teasing.

            “Then you must know I’d be rather determined to find out what’s inside.” She stood, brushing down her skirts neatly. She met his golden eyes. “Why leave it out where I could find it?”

  
            His gaze flicked away from her face, flicking his free wrist in an indifferent gesture. “Careless mistake.”

            Belle’s brows arched to her hairline. “I find that unlikely, Rumpelstiltskin—you’re hardly known for your  _carelessness_.”

            “Mm, there you are incorrect.” His mouth twitched in a grin, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “I am widely known as a heartless beast, an unfeeling demon—I’m sure the tales of the Dark One you grew up with were equally unforgiving.”

            She pursed her lips, a playfully stern look at the ready. “Tales often exaggerate, and I’m sure you helped them along… gave them a little push in the direction that suited your needs, am I right?” Her gaze flicked to the book before he had a chance to reply. “But you know what I meant: it’s not like you to accidentally overlook a detail as important as a book on magic left sitting where anyone could get hold of it.”

            Rumpelstiltskin rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “It  _is_  my home. I should be able to leave my work wherever I please.”

            Belle arched an eyebrow. She took a single step closer. “What’s in it that you think I shouldn’t see?”

            “Magic,” he answered easily. The way it rolled off his tongue, the word itself seemed alive.

            Belle folded her arms, tilted her head.

            “Magic so profane casting your eyes upon it would completely wither your innocence—best not to think of it.” A wave of his arm and the book vanished only to reappear on the center of the table.

            She bit back a grin. A challenge. “Surely not, if you just left it lying around.”

            He wrinkled his nose. “ _Perhaps_  you should be attending to your duties or one of the thousand other books in your keeping.”  
             A sweet smile graced Belle’s lips. “But _that_ one is forbidden, and right where I can reach it. What good is living in a magic castle if I know nothing about how it works?”

            Rumpelstiltskin spun on his heel and there was a slender finger nearly touching Belle’s nose. “Curiosity my dear—you know what they say about that!” Before a blush could rush to her cheeks, he had turned away, strutting toward the table. “I do believe it is time for tea, Belle.” He faced her again, tantalizingly close to the tome, pushed innocently close to the edge.

            Her eyes did not move from the book. “I suppose I shall fetch it, then.” Her mind was racing. When would he decide he’d won? She could not just give up now, but—

            “Nonsense. We’re both already here…” With a flick of his wrists, the tea-tray appeared between his hands. He offered it up for show.

            Belle smiled. The idea lighting her eyes should have been a signal, but Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze strayed just a moment too long on the swish of her skirt as she approached—closer—closer—“Thank you.” And she was upon him and the light of mischief in her eyes was realized:

            Belle leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek.

            The tray crashed to the ground.

            “Oh, dear—”

            “No—I—” Trembling fingers whisked everything back in order and safely on the table, virulent tinge of magic coloring the air. Rumpelstiltskin turned to face her—

            The book was tucked triumphantly against her chest.

            Oh.

            Oh,  _of course_.

            Bitterness, seeping, seethed through his veins.

            Of course. It would not have made sense, otherwise.

            Regret. He had started it, waltzed into it.

            The arch of his back became stiff, cold. He waved a hand carelessly in her direction, eyes fixing themselves firmly on the fireplace. “You may go.”

            A frown creased Belle’s brow, arms slackening around the book. “But—”

            “You have what you came for,” he insisted. Every word was careful, frigid, crisply formed, as though it required every iota of focus to speak. “Go.”

            She stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “If it’s that important, I—”

            He wrenched it away, turned on his heel, a hiss on his lips: “ _Go_.”

            Belle grabbed his hand—would not let go. She took his other shoulder, fingers curling into silk, guiding him to face her.

            Her hands—when had they become empty of the book?

            Blue eyes met gold.

            “Rumple, let’s have tea.”


End file.
